


low

by rottenstrawberrymilk



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Affection, Aftercare, Aggression, Consensual, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Insomnia, Light Dom/sub, NSFW, Roughness, Sleepy Cuddles, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:00:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23441314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rottenstrawberrymilk/pseuds/rottenstrawberrymilk
Summary: tim wright x reader one shot nsfw
Relationships: Timothy "Tim" W./You, Timothy "Tim" Wright/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56





	low

A harsh exhale came from him as his lips pushed against yours hard, one of his hands on the back of your head, grabbing tightly at your hair. His other hand cupped along your jaw, tenderly in contrast to the way his fingers knotted in your hair. Slowly, you’d leaned back into the bed, your legs hanging off the end as your fingers gripped at his shirt. His hips pushed against yours, leaving no space between the two of you. You couldn't have wanted him anymore.

Tim’s lips left yours as he focused his attention elsewhere. He kissed you, slowly, down your throat, to your collarbone, down to your chest. Your hands crept up to his neck, then the back of his head, your fingers buried in his hair. A groan escaped him, muffled by your skin. You felt a sort of ice cold pleasure--excitement and arousal--as Tim's hands grabbed around your waist. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he pushed you further up onto the bed. His hand swept down your waist and hip, then to the button of his jeans.

Normally he spent longer teasing you, working you up for his own amusement, making it worth the time. But he was different this time. You couldn't blame him.

He'd had a really long day, judging by the manner he came to you in. Disheveled, worked up, looking angry and tired and fed up with everything. It was one of the worst moods you'd ever seen him in. He'd been instantly on you, whatever frustrations he'd pent up making themselves clear in the force of his hands and lips on you. You hadn't minded this. His sudden and passionate aggression, so out of the ordinary, had been welcome. After all, you'd been waiting for him on his bed, only in your bra and underwear, thinking of him in...certain ways. You'd wanted to surprise him. You hadn't expected to be surprised yourself. 

He'd taken your hips tightly in his hands. He was rougher than usual and close to silent except for the occasional grunt or breath. He wouldn't talk. No words of gentle encouragement or off-handed moans. No requests or demands. He just...did what he wanted to you. It was new. It was mysterious and unpredictable. And, strangely enough, it thrilled you. He gave no warnings, no time for you to adjust between his teeth and his lips and his body. He had you pinned against the mattress, hard, desperate for some sort of complete control. Over you. Over anything. You'd known that desire for complete control lurked within him. But you'd never seen this side of him before. This animal. 

You thought he was going to break something. The drywall or the bed or maybe even your body. 

But you weren't afraid. You could never be afraid of him.

As soon as whatever possessed him had come, it was gone. That cold, dark look seemed to vanish from his face as he finished. You'd wrapped your arms around his shoulders tighter, raising your upper body into his to kiss him softly. One of his hands reached and stroked your cheek as he let out a sigh and wrapped his other arm across the small of your back. With ease, he turned in the bed, flipping you on top of him, his arms still tight around you, his chest against yours. 

A soft sigh left you as he kissed you again and again, like a silent apology. 

Between kisses you tried to talk.

"How was your...mm..day?" 

Tim's head fell back into the pillow, his eyes trained up on the ceiling for a few moments. He bit the inside of his cheek. You rested your head on his chest, tracing lazy circles into his skin. Your head moved up and down slightly with every exhale and inhale. You figured he was still trying to catch his breath. 

He seemed to finally land on a definitive answer. "Not...exactly great."

"What happened?"

“Well, more like what's _been_ happening..." Tim muttered. Sets been stressful. Alex hasn’t been...right,” Tim told you, his fingers starting to drift over your bare back slowly in endlessly repeating circles and lines. "Can you grab me a cig? And a lighter? In my pocket." 

You nodded and reached, tracing your hand down his side and to the front pocket in his jeans, still slack and lowered a little past his hips. You retrieved both and he took the box from your hands. You knew he was particular about picking which cigarette he wanted. One of his little quirks. He pushed one between his lips. You flicked open the lighter, igniting the flame. Gently, he took your hand, moving it closer to his mouth so he could light the cigarette. Even after you extinguished the flame and shut the lid, Tim held your hand. His palm stayed overtop yours as your hand came to rest on his chest again. 

"Uhh, yeah...just. Something weird's happening with him. He's really...hard to be around right now. Just really short tempered, it's like he purposely finds every little thing to freak out about--just to get more angry. He yelled at me and Brian today on set, in front of _everyone,_ because he missed a word in his line. A _word._ And it's just...I don't know if he's on a power trip or what but I'm not gonna put up with it for much longer. A lot of people are talking about walking out of this and it's just...things aren't going well. Like, I don't get paid enough to put up with that shit. 'Specially not for some...stupid student film, y'know?" 

He took a drag from his cigarette before offering it to you. You took it between your fingers. His head leaned back against the headboard of the bed, smoking billowing from his nostrils for a the briefest of moments. His free hand reached up towards the bedpost in a long, slow stretch, defining the long toned lean muscle in his arm.

Eventually, you found the right words to respond. "I'm sorry, Tim...that doesn't seem fair at all to you... Didn't you give him like, two locations for filming that he's been looking for, for like ever? Whatever's pissing him off, it doesn't deserve to be taken out on you."

"Yeah, right? And about that--he didn't even _like_ the locations. Said there was too much glass or too much graffiti, too much fucking anything I guess. He wanted an abandoned fucking building, I gave him a damn abandoned building. This isn't a big budget box office production, my God..." One of his hands found its way to the bridge of his nose and pinched as he took a deep breath.

"That's fucked," you responded, feeding off of his heated words for a few moments. 

You were about to say something else, something supportive, but you weren't sure what. Because you were sure there had to be something more troubling him. There was still something wrong, something worse and he wasn't telling you. His muscles were still all tense beneath you, and he opened his mouth, like he was about to add something else to his rant, before he simply closed it and let out sigh.

"Is there...something else?" you finally asked. "Something else that's bothering you?"

He gave a slight shake of his head, his hand falling away from his face. It found it's place on your back again, warm against your skin. 

"That's it. I'm fine, though. Really. Just a bit..." he seemed to search for the right word. "Uh, tired." 

You nodded against him, giving a bit of a yawn. Whatever you were going to say or wanted to, you forgot as you felt yourself begin to doze off. He was still rubbing his hand over your back--something he knew put you to sleep rather quickly. He stopped only after he felt the slow stir of your breath against his chest and no response from you when he softly said your name. 

Tim stayed awake beneath you. Unable to sleep. For the third night in a row.

He made sure you didn't know. If you did, Tim knew that you'd attempt to stay up all night with him and not get any rest yourself. He wasn't going to do that to you--he wasn't even going to give you the opportunity to do that to yourself. He'd always felt a rush of guilt just _thinking_ of accidentally dragging down your mental health alongside his. Just by being near you. It wasn't fair to you. Tim often wondered whether he should break up with you to make sure he couldn't hurt you. He didn't know how much longer he could keep this up--hiding the returning symptoms from his youth that'd ruined his life. 

Slowly, gently, so as not to wake you, Tim reached over to the nightstand, his other large hand on your back holding you steady to him. He managed to get a drawer partway open, which he then reached in to the best of his ability. He managed to touch his fingertips to the plastic of his pill bottle, dragging it closer so he could grab it. He turned his head, glancing from the corner of his eyes. He couldn't tell how many pills were left. 

Tim gave the bottle a light shake as that familiar cold feeling began to descend over him.

Starting to get low again. 


End file.
